


surrounded and up against the wall

by immolationfox



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Dad Instincts, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Introspection, Mandalorian Culture, Mentions of Child Endangerment, People Leave Mando's Helmet Out Of It 2k20, Protective Mando, Stream of Consciousness, the gender neutral pronouns are for the kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immolationfox/pseuds/immolationfox
Summary: He took one look at the mercenaries assigned to the job and knew this was not going to end well. He just hadn't figured out who was going to regret it most, yet.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 286





	surrounded and up against the wall

Zero goes up in sparks and crumbles to the ground lifelessly, just like he lived. The baby is staring at their tiny hands, as if they thought they had something to do with the droids timely demise, and then looks up to see him standing right there. What passes as a smile lights up the child's face, and they stretch their arms out.

Dyn doesn't hesitate to holster his blaster and gently scoop the kid up in one arm. They settle into his beskar chest plate like it's something comfortable, and gaze up at him contentedly.

"Let's get out of here," he tells them gruffly. He still had some business to attend to. Threatening him, threatening his helmet is one thing he can handle on his own. Threatening a child, a  _ baby _ \- that is an unforgivable dishonor, and he almost wishes he'd killed the rest of them where they stood. 

No questions asked, though. If there was one thing he appreciated about Ran, it was that he didn't question the policy. 

Let them think he was dead. Ran and the others would all be dead soon enough, anyway. Sure, he knew there was some danger in carrying the beacon on his own ship, but by the time the New Republic caught up, he'd be out of harm's way, and more importantly, so would the kid.

He looked down at it.

"So you really don't have a name, huh?"

They coo at him, reaching up one tiny hand to settle at the edge of his helmet. Not wanting it off, just- there. Comforting, almost, although Dyn didn't know who it was supposed to comfort. The kid was smart. It probably could have taken out the droid if he hadn't showed up, but still. He hadn't shown up a moment too soon. 

Reflexively, his hands tighten around the kid. His chest tightens around his heart. What if he'd lost the kid. What if- everything he'd done for the past month would be for nothing, and he might as well have stayed with the beacon.

Briefly, he thinks about Sorgan, even as he contemplates his own demise. What he found there. What he wants to return to. What he might have. A flash of dark hair, the sound of laughter, water lapping at his hands. He lets himself enjoy the mental image for a few moments, and then lets go of the thoughts, and the child as he puts them back down in their seat in the back.

"Better strap in, little one," he tells it, allowing a hint of fondness to color his tone. "We've got a ways to go yet."

They coo again, babbling a little.

"I know. Qin's in the back though. I can still get paid."

They peer up at him, and then makes a little sound.

"We can't exactly hunt down the guys hunting you if we can't get fuel or food. I thought you were smarter than that."

They giggle, stretch their hands towards him.

"Not right now. I need both hands for this. After."

The kid makes a contented little sound and settles into their seat. Dyn allows himself a tiny smile at the kid's sleepy eyes. He reaches back and tugs on one of it's ears very gently.

"You should nap. It's been a long day."

They stay silent, gazing up at him with big eyes, and Dyn turns, facing the viewport, and the swirling vortex of hyperspace without. A nap honestly sounded like heaven, if you believed in that sort of thing. All he wanted to do now was put his feet up on the console and doze, but Qin- Qin was not to be trusted. He betrayed his sister. He betrayed his rescuers. A man like that has no code, no honor - his word means nothing and he only looks out for himself.

To be Mandalorian is to fight with honor. To be Mando is to wield the weapon and know both your limits, and your blaster's. To be Mando is to not abandon the most helpless of victims.

The Foundlings are the Mandalorian future, now. They are everything. The child is everything. There is no Mando without the lost of the galaxy. Dyn is the last of a dying breed, he thinks. 

Back on Mandalore, things are different, even more different than they were during the Clone Wars, if the stories are to be believed. The armor isn't a symbol of an honorable warrior anymore, and Dyn thinks it hasn't been that for awhile. All it means now is a dying breed, an endangered species of hunter-for-hire.

And now he is prey. 

Dyn takes a breath. Holds it. Exhales. His knee bounces without purpose as he keeps one ear out for the kid and one ear out for Qin below deck. He thinks he can hear the beeping of the beacon, but know it is only because he knows that it's here. It doesn't matter. He and the kid will be safe, and Qin and Ran will get exactly what the deserve.

"Everything's gonna be fine," he mumbles absentmindedly, and waits for the end of the hyperspace tunnel. 

/

He leaves the child in the cockpit, tucked safely into his seat in the cockpit, as far away from Ran and his like as Dyn drops off Qin and gets his payment. He won’t linger, for multiple reasons, and while the most pressing is the beacon flashing in Qin’s pocket, the other, almost equally pressing is the fact that he does not want to let the kid out of his sight ever again. Twice now, bad things had happened. The kid’s life was in constant jeopardy every time Dyn let them out of his sight, but he still didn’t know which was safer - leaving them on the ship, or carrying them with him. Taking the kid with him on jobs put him directly in the line of fire. Leaving the kid on the  _ Crest  _ just left him defenseless and vulnerable. 

When he climbs back into the cockpit, the kid turns to face him, big ears perking up. They coo at him, and Dyn pats their head gently as they pass.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They pass the New Republic x-wings, nearly colliding. As he makes the calculations to jump, he watches the reflection of the x-wings swoop in, allowing himself a reckless grin under his helmet as the explosion casts everything into shadows. He hands the kid the round tip of the lever.

“Told you this was a bad idea,” he says, even as he is unable to let go of the thrill of satisfaction of the phenomenal explosion behind them, and the fact that the rest of those mercenaries are locked up on an abandoned prison ship. If they can’t escape, that’s on them. 

Either way. Dyn has a job to do. He has to find the root of the problem, he thinks, glancing back at the kid, happily occupied with his makeshift toy. He needs to hunt the hunters, find out where that Imperial scum is hiding, learn what he wants to do with the kid, and then kill it all. Take out the old man. Delete the bounty. Maybe one day they’d finally be safe, but until then, Dyn knows now that he would lay his life down if it would save the kid’s life.

His fingers flex around the controls. It’s a new feeling, but he finds he doesn’t care that much.


End file.
